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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27103678">Do You Really Want To Hurt Me (by getting hurt again?)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl'>firstdegreefangirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Rookie (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Again, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Idiot Tim Bradford, Medical Trauma, Protective Jackson, Worried Tim Bradford, injured on-duty, is that a tag yet? It should be, lucy gets hurt, she's a disaster magnet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 04:53:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,225</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27103678</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucy has a knack for landing herself in the ER far more often than she should. It happens again, and Tim handles it ... as well as can be expected.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lucy Chen &amp; Jackson West, Tim Bradford &amp; Angela Lopez, Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>259</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For those who follow my writing process, this is the ER fic!! For those who want to follow my writing process, I'll drop info at the end. This first chapter is Jenny's birthday present, because she's been stressed about the opening line pretty much since I first wrote it. Also because she's stunning and amazing and deserves all the best presents.</p><p>We're looking at probably four chapters now, but there's a spot at the end that's giving me trouble, so it might be five. Regardless, look for the next update ... probably Thursday or Friday.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Time slows down, Tim’s world grinds to a halt as he sees Lucy go down.  </p><p>It was supposed to be an easy call, backup for Nolan and Harper on a foot pursuit. Four sets of feet can cover more ground, corner the suspect from more angles, give a couple more vantage points. Sure, the last thing they want to do on a rainy day is to get out of the car and chase someone, but not every day can be a winner. </p><p>He’s just a couple steps behind her, closing in on the suspect, when Lucy’s foot catches in a puddle. She slides, her leg flying out at an unnatural angle, but throws her arm out to break the fall and barely catches herself from rolling end over end down the alley. </p><p>Tim watches her fall in slow-motion, but as soon as she’s upright again, he forces himself to focus on the scene around him. Nolan comes out of nowhere, flings himself on top of the guy in mid-stride and wrestles the cuffs onto him, hoisting him to his feet and marching him back to their shop. Tim trails behind, knowing that his TO is a couple blocks up, waiting to head the guy off at the next intersection. </p><p>If this guy tries anything, Nolan will need the backup.  </p><p>He doesn’t try anything though, becomes almost alarmingly complacent as soon as he’s in custody, so Tim nods at Harper when she comes back around the corner and begins the short walk back to his own vehicle. </p><p>When he gets there, Lucy’s almost back from the alley, leaning heavily against the side of the building Tim had parked in front of. She’s limping, every step deepening the pain etched into her features. Tim considers offering her a hand, but knows he’ll be better help having the shop started and the air conditioner blowing by the time she gets her door opened. </p><p>Besides, she’s too strong-willed to let him help her walk down a little bit of sidewalk, and he knows that too. </p><p>“Hey, you alright?” As soon as she’s in the car, Tim is looking at her across the console. Lucy nods her head, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes. She can’t lie to him, not when he just saw her trying to walk. “Looked like you stumbled pretty bad back there, and you’re limping now. Good thing we didn't have anything do to this afternoon, like catching criminals. Swear to god, Boot, the city could save some good money on your health insurance if they just gave you some bubble wrap over your vest. Save you the hours in the ER, too.” </p><p>“It’s fine.” Lucy sinks further into her seat and crosses her arms over her chest. “I can just ice it down here until we get another call. Stop somewhere for me to get the ice?”  </p><p>“What?” Clearly his lighthearted banter hasn’t landed well; she must be hurt worse than he thought. He saw the way she slid, saw her limping back to the shop. There’s no way he’s letting her out of this without a once-over. </p><p>“We don’t have to go to the ER.” </p><p>Now he’s wondering if she’d hit her head when she fell, maybe blacked out the whole incident. He doesn’t respond right away, testing the waters. Lucy hasn’t let the shop go quiet more than five minutes since the day he met her.  </p><p>But she doesn’t say anything, just lets the silence fester between them, and that’s when Tim really starts to worry. </p><p>This is incredibly unlike Lucy, and even though eight months ago, he’d have welcomed the peace and quiet, now he’d give anything for her to talk to him. Tim lets his foot press a little harder into the gas pedal, speeds up as much as he reasonably can to get her toward the hospital. He still has to stop at red lights, though, can’t justify lights and sirens because his rookie slipped and fell.  </p><p>He can’t stand counting the quiet seconds, staring at the intersection and waiting for traffic to clear. So he chances a glance over at Lucy and his stomach rolls. </p><p><em> There are tears shining in her eyes. </em> </p><p>She’s been hurt half a dozen times since she started field training, just on duty, and just severe enough to seek medical attention. Tim can’t count the times he’s had to track down a Band-Aid from the first aid kit, would never admit that he’s started carrying a few in his own pocket just in case.  </p><p>But she’s only cried once, when she’d woken up in his arms, the hot desert sun pounding down as she came back to life. </p><p>Lucy isn’t a crier, but the tears are threatening to spill over. Tim doesn’t want to put her through that, after everything else that’s happened to her today. But he’s never been good with emotions, especially on other people, and even more so when he doesn't know what’s causing them, so he doesn’t have the slightest idea what to do. The banter he usually leans on clearly hadn’t worked, and he’s only got one other trick up his sleeve. </p><p>“Like hell I’m putting you back on the streets like this.” He makes himself ignore the concern building in his chest, growls at her like she’s a first-day rookie again, trying to find her bearings between the city blocks. “You can barely walk; what’s going to happen if you have to chase someone? We're going to the hospital and getting you checked out. I’ll make it an order if I have to.” </p><p>Usually the patented Training Officer Tim Bradford Voice startles Lucy into listening, drives her to focusing on the world in front of her over whatever’s inside her head. </p><p>But today? Today, it has the opposite effect. She leans away from him, shifts as far toward the window as she can, and tries to curl in on herself.  </p><p>She yelps, though, when she tries to tuck her leg up into her chest. It’s a quiet noise, almost drowned out by the sound of the engine, but Tim hears it anyway, the squeaky gasp as she uncrosses her arms to hover her hands over her knee. But she doesn't touch, like she’s afraid to cause herself any more pain. </p><p><em> Ice it down in the shop, his ass. </em> </p><p>“Don’t move it if it hurts, Boot.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Tim knows they aren’t going to help anything, won’t soothe away any of her discomfort, won’t make this any easier for her to bear. What he doesn’t know, though, is how to walk them back, or what he can say to make it better. </p><p>Short of getting her to a doctor, which he’s working on, Tim is at a loss. It’s not a feeling he likes, this out-of-control thing where he can’t take charge of a situation he doesn't understand. On top of all of his concern for Lucy, he’s trying to find his place here, figure out what’s left that he can take charge of. </p><p>And as far as he can tell, the list stops after “get to the hospital without causing an accident.” </p><p>Clearly, there’s little else, if anything, he can do for Lucy right now. Other than put her in touch with someone he knows can help more than he can. </p><p>When he rolls to a stop at the next red light, he looks over at her again, sees the tension curled tightly in her shoulders. </p><p>“Want to call West? If they’re not on a call, he and Lopez can meet us at the ER.” </p><p>“I told you, I’m fine.” Lucy grits her teeth, speaks from behind a clenched jaw. </p><p>“And I told you that we’re going to the hospital anyway. Better safe than sorry.” </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jackson gets some ... incomplete information from Lucy about what's happened.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm baaaack! We all know that I love any good excuse to work Jackson and Angela into a fic, so here they are!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim’s right, and Lucy knows it. It hurts to admit it, almost as much as the pain throbbing in her leg, but if she were in Tim’s shoes – if it were any officer other than her, and it were her judgement call – she'd get a professional opinion too.  </p>
<p>And he was right again, suggesting that she talk to Jackson. She won’t be able to hide this from him at home tonight, would rather he find out now than when she limps through the door.  </p>
<p>Besides, if there’s one person who can always put her in a better mood, it’s her best friend.  </p>
<p>But there’s no way she can call him, not with Tim sitting right here. That would be handing him the victory, and she’s not about to do that. </p>
<p>Even when her knee hurts so badly that she’d just as soon amputate the whole thing and call it a day, she can’t give Tim the satisfaction of knowing that he’d had a good suggestion. Not after he yelled at her because she fell down.  </p>
<p>So she slides her phone out of her pocket when he turns back to look at the rode and fires off two texts in rapid succession. </p>
<hr/>
<p>Jackson shifts his weight to one side, slides his phone out of his back pocket when it vibrates. Angela glances over at the movement, but he’s not driving, and they’re not doing anything but patrol, so she doesn't comment.  </p>
<p>There are two texts, both from Lucy, both less than a minute old.  </p>
<p>He reads the first one and doesn’t think anything of it, other than that he’d thought they were past this line of conversation by several months. </p>
<p>But her second message makes his heart drop to his stomach.  </p>
<p>“Lopez. Angela.” He gasps and looks up to stare at her. “We didn’t miss any officer down calls did we?” </p>
<p>“What?” She glances back at him, eyes wide with concern. “West, what’s going on?” </p>
<p>“I don’t know, but Lucy’s in the ER. Or, going to the ER. I don’t really know, she didn’t say.” </p>
<p>“What? What happened?” She merges into the left lane, trying to get out from behind a slow-moving Buick. </p>
<p>“I don’t know, but apparently  Bradford made fun of her.” </p>
<p>“What’d she say?” </p>
<p>“’Tim’s such an ass,’” he reads from the screen in his hand. “Making fun of me for needing to go to the ER.’” </p>
<p>“Did she say anything else?” </p>
<p>“Yeah, she told me exactly what happened, I’m just keeping it to myself.” Jackson rolls his eyes. “No, she didn’t say anything else. Hang on, I’m calling her.”  </p>
<p>He dials, then curses when the call goes to voicemail, leaves a short message begging Lucy to call him as soon as she can. As soon as the call ends, he’s frantically texting her, asking if she’s admitted yet, what happened, what Tim said. </p>
<p>At the next corner, he feels the shop lurch, jostling him around as Angela puts her pursuit training to work on a U-turn. He can’t be sure, but Jackson wouldn’t be surprised if they’d rolled up onto two wheels.  </p>
<p>They’re not far from Shaw Memorial as it is, and with Angela’s driving, it’s only a few short minutes before Jackson sees the sign directing them to take the next right. </p>
<p>“Wait!” It’s the first thing either of them have said since Jackson hung up his voicemail, but he has a sudden realization and sits forward as Angela throws the brake pedal to the floor and they jerk to a stop. </p>
<p>“What?” She doesn’t look at him, just stares out the windshield, scanning for whatever threat Jackson might have noticed. </p>
<p>“What if she’s at Cedars-Siani?” All he’d gotten from Lucy’s text was that she was going to ‘the ER,’ not <em>which </em>ER.  </p>
<p>“Jackson.” Angela rolls her eyes and pulls forward again, turning into the parking lot. “Has Tim ever taken her anywhere else?” </p>
<p>It’s a fair point, and when Angela pulls up in front of the ambulance bay, right behind the shop marked 7-A-19 on the rear bumper, Jackson has to admit that she’s right. He’s unfastening his seatbelt before the car is in park, but Angela shoots him a pointed look before turning off the ignition. </p>
<p>“I’ve got Tim. You talk to Lucy, we’ll grab coffee in 15?” Jackson nods, then all but throws himself out of the vehicle. He slows down as he approaches the door, but only with the awareness that he shouldn’t be the second roommate to end up in the ER today.  </p>
<p>The doors are automatic, and Jackson understands the practicality, but there’s something unsatisfying about walking in as they slide open in front of him. Sure, this is better for gurneys and wheelchairs, but where’s the dramatic entrance? How is he supposed to shove the doors open and storm in to find Lucy when they’re open before he even gets there? </p>
<p>But even if he had pushed his way into the waiting room, there’s no challenge in finding Lucy. She’s facing the door, leg stretched out across four chairs, with a bag of ice sitting on her knee. There are tears staining her cheeks, and that’s when Jackson knows how deeply Tim’s words cut into her, whatever it is that he’d said. </p>
<p><em> Tim. </em>He’s sitting five or six chairs away, behind Lucy, arms tucked tightly across his chest and legs sprawled out to ward people off from sitting near him.  </p>
<p>Jackson doesn’t pay him much attention though, sits down in the chair right behind Lucy as he sees Angela in his periphery, walking over to Tim. </p>
<hr/>
<p>Angela sees Tim as soon as she walks into the waiting room behind Jackson. It's almost impossible not to notice the cop sulking in the corner, spread out across three seats worth of space, scanning the room constantly. </p>
<p>Every time he glances Lucy’s way, his eyes linger for a moment, staring just a little bit longer than he spends looking at everything else. She’s still not sure what happened, but Angela knows him well enough to know exactly what the expression means. </p>
<p>He worried about her, in the same way she’s only ever seen him worry about one other person: Isabel. Whatever’s going on, it’s got him concerned enough to start pulling away, trying to protect himself from getting hurt again. </p>
<p>Even if he hurts someone else in the process. </p>
<p>She knows that Lucy is different, unlike any rookie Tim has ever trained before. Frankly, unlike most of the rookies she’s trained too. She’s perceptive, empathetic, in the job for her own reasons, not just for car chases and shootouts.  </p>
<p>And she’d seen right through Tim by the end of her first month. Most rookies were scared of him right up to their last day of training – some of them even after years on the streets, still look at Tim like he’s scarier than the worst offenders they’ve ever faced. Lucy hadn’t let him intimidate her like that, had fought tooth and nail to earn his respect as an officer. She’s slowly won his friendship too, Angela knows. She’s seen Lucy’s name come up on his phone screen when they’re out for drinks, knows he’d adopted the dog she couldn’t keep in the apartment with Jackson, hears the way he talks about her, how much he knows about her personal life. </p>
<p>Now, she sees how guarded he is, sitting half a waiting room away, staring at the back of her vest while he broods. </p>
<p>Angela’s never been one for brooding, isn’t about to let Tim sit there and sulk all afternoon. So she crosses the room and knocks one of his knees out of the way with her own as she sits down in the chair right next to him. When he glares at her, the immediate urge is to smack him lightly on the back of his head.  </p>
<p>But she decides to save that for later, when she has a better read on the situation. </p>
<p>“What happened?” She only watches him from the corner of her eye, knows better than to look at him dead on. When he gets like this, Tim is like an animal, threatened by direct confrontation.  “All Lucy said was that you were taking her to the hospital.”  </p>
<p>She leaves out the part about Tim being mad at her; at this point, it would only add insult to injury, and she’d like to actually get some information from him before she pisses him off and he retreats back into his own mind. </p>
<p>“We were chasing a suspect with Nolan and Harper. She turned down an alley and slipped on some wet pavement, screwed her leg up. Had to hurt pretty bad; she limped back over to the shop. Now she’s acting all funny. Think she hit her head?” Tim finally looks at Angela, and for a second, she feels a little bad for wanting to slap him upside the head.  </p>
<p>“I have no idea, Tim,” she tries to keep her voice gentle, unaggressive and unteasing, knowing how worried he is. “I wasn’t there. Funny how?” </p>
<p>“She’s <em> never </em> quiet.” He pulls his eyes away from Angela, looks over her shoulder at Lucy’s back again. “It’s got to be a concussion, right?” </p>
<p>“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” If it were a concussion, if there were any legitimate chance Lucy had hit her head when she slipped, Angela knows he’d have called for an ambulance. First of all, head wounds are serious; secondly, given how he’s reacting to this, he would have erred on the side of caution. Now she just needs to get him focused on something other than Lucy’s hypothetical brain injury. “She catch the guy? That’s usually the first line of these stories.” </p>
<p>“Nolan got him.” There’s frustration in his voice at that, and Angela cracks a smile. It’s bad enough that his favorite rookie got hurt, but she knows he’s never gotten along particularly well with the older officer. “Should be in booking now.” </p>
<p>“And?” </p>
<p>“And what?” It’s not quite a growl, but almost, and Angela is surprised to hear Tim turn the voice on her, since he usually reserves that tone for uncooperative suspects.  </p>
<p>“What else? You’re never like this when Lucy gets hurt.” She turns to look over her shoulder at the younger officers, then back at Tim. <em> “Lucy </em>is never like this when she gets hurt.” </p>
<p>She points at Lucy and Jackson, talking too quietly for her to overhear Lucy’s side of things. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>See you next time! Let me know what you think so far! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The scene breaks on this fic weren't particularly kind to me, so this chapter is a little bit longer, try as I might to keep things relatively even. So ... enjoy the extra dose!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jackson folds himself into the chair right behind Lucy, sits sideways and tucks his chin over her shoulder.  </p>
<p>“Alright, what’d you do, and what’d Bradford say, and which happened first?” </p>
<p>His face rises and falls with Lucy’s sniffle before she responds.  </p>
<p>“I fell, he made fun of me, then made me come here.” Her voice is thick, the words whispered against her unshed tears, and Jackson can feel how tense she is where he’s leaning over her back. </p>
<p>“Feels like I’m still a little light on the details here, but I’ll play along. How’d you fall?” </p>
<p>“Slipped on the wet pavement.” She leans back against him, and Jackson supports her weight easily, even from his sideways position. The movement is just enough to make the bag of ice start sliding off of her knee, but he reaches forward and repositions it before it can fall.  Lucy whimpers when he bumps her leg with the side of his hand, but doesn’t move. </p>
<p>“Sorry, sorry. Think they’ll need to amputate?” At that, she huffs out a small laugh, and Jackson smiles, pleased to have been able to amuse her, even if only for a moment. </p>
<p>“I’m like 90 percent sure it’s just a sprain, but <em> Doctor Bradford </em>over there wouldn’t let it go until I agreed to X-rays.” There’s so much indignation in her tone at her training officer’s concern that Jackson finds himself biting the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling out loud. </p>
<p>“Could you walk on it?” He’s pretty sure he knows the answer, but hasn’t actually seen her try to get up since he arrived. Besides, maybe if she admits it, she’ll be forced to realize that Tim is just trying to look out for her.  </p>
<p>“Yes!” <em>So much for that.</em> “Sort of … not really.” Jackson feels the fight bleed out of her as she slumps further against him. He pushes a stray piece of ponytail out of her face and shifts his leg so her holster doesn’t dig into his thigh. </p>
<p>“Then I think he may be onto something.” But he knows that there’s probably more at play, something else Bradford did to upset his friend. “What else did he say?” </p>
<p>Lucy sniffles again, tries to curl in on herself and yelps softly. Jackson runs his hand down her arm, trying to get her to relax.  </p>
<p>“He said the city should give me bubble wrap so he doesn’t have to bring me here anymore.” The whisper is hardly audible, and as much as Jackson might privately think that Tim could be onto something, it’s clearly the most hurtful thing Tim could possibly have said to her. </p>
<p>“Ouch.” He winces, for Lucy’s benefit, but there’s nothing else for him to say, nothing he can do to help her right now. Then, he sees Angela in his periphery, heading for the coffee station, and slides his arm around Lucy’s back to help her sit forward. “Hey, I’m gonna go grab a cup. Vanilla creamer?”  </p>
<p>He waits for Lucy to nod, makes sure she’s positioned stably and trails behind Angela over to the coffee. </p>
<p>“So?” She’s facing the machine, pressing the button for the automated cappuccino to dispense, but addresses Jackson as soon as he approaches.  </p>
<p>“She slipped and fell. Thinks it’s a knee sprain. Apparently, Bradford said something about bubble wrap saving her the trouble of ER visits. What’d you hear?” </p>
<p>“Lucy fell, now she’s all quiet, must be a head injury.” She slides the cup out from under the nozzle, replaces it with another and jabs at the button for dark roast. “I love Tim, but you know how he is.” </p>
<p>“Still, I don’t think he’d actually refuse to take her to the ER.” </p>
<p>“They’re here, aren’t they?” Angela levels him with a stare, then glances behind him to look between their friends. When Jackson follows her gaze, there’s a nurse helping Lucy into a wheelchair, while Tim carefully stares straight ahead from his seat, his jaw set tightly. “What he <em> would </em>do is make a poorly timed joke and not clue in enough to walk it back.” </p>
<p>Angela steps back, and Jackson sets the machine for his own hot chocolate while they continue comparing details of their conversations.  </p>
<p>When he turns around again, Tim is alone, every other chair along the wall sitting empty.  </p>
<p>“So, what do we do?” </p>
<hr/>
<p>As soon as Lucy is gone, Tim turns his head to stare at the set of chairs she’s just vacated. He distantly remembers the nurse talking to him, telling him that she’d come find him after Lucy was settled in a room.  </p>
<p>But she’s not here now; he can’t keep an eye on her. Her fate is in his hands, and he can’t do a damn thing to make sure she’s safe.  </p>
<p>Before he can think any further on it, Angela is dropping back into the seat next to him, West sitting on her other side. She’s pushing a hot paper cup into his hand, telling him it’s the strongest thing she could get from the machine, asking if they said anything when they took Lucy back. </p>
<p>“Yeah, they’ll, uh, someone will come get me. Us. When she’s done in X-ray.” His voice sounds wrong to his own ears, the coffee is too hot in his hands.  </p>
<p>She's been gone for five minutes – not even really gone, just down the hall, in the hands of the very professionals Tim had forced her to consult – and everything feels wrong.  </p>
<p>No one is saying anything; there’s nothing to distract him from his own mind, from the endless barrage of things that could be happening to Lucy right now. Until finally, Jackson opens his mouth and gives voice to one of the loudest thoughts that’s been circling his head. </p>
<p>“Bubble wrap, really?” He scoffs. “That’s your idea of comfort?”  </p>
<p>Tim’s heart clenches, but he feels a little better when he sees Angela elbow Jackson in the ribs. Through the Kevlar, it won’t be too painful, but the point will come across all the same. And it’s nice to know that someone else is in his corner, even if he’s maybe just ruined everything. He shifts in his seat, leans forward far enough to look past Angela and glare at Jackson. </p>
<p>“It’s my idea of keeping her out of the hospital at least long enough for me to forget what it feels like to worry about her landing here again.”  </p>
<p>At that, Jackson looks up, directly into Tim’s eyes. </p>
<p><em> Shit, he’s said too much.  </em> </p>
<p>But Jackson doesn’t get the chance to say anything before Angela is all but shoving him out of his chair.  </p>
<p>“Boot, go refill the coffees.” The young officer looks at her, visibly confused by her demand. </p>
<p>“Your cup is still like half-” </p>
<p>“Boot.” She cuts him off. “Go. Coffee.” He gets it then, eyes widening as he nods. </p>
<p>“Right, yes. Coffee. I’ll leave you guys here and go … get more coffee.” Tim rolls his eyes as Jackson scrambles to his feet, overeager to please once he realizes that Angela is just trying to distract him so she can talk to Tim. </p>
<p>Of course, as soon as Jackson is gone, Tim realizes that she’s trying to corner him, and that can only mean one thing.  </p>
<p>She’s going to try and make him talk about his feelings. At least she had the decency to make sure he didn’t have an audience, but she’s going to try and get him to talk about his feelings, and he doesn’t like doing that on a good day. </p>
<p>And today is far from a good day. </p>
<p>Sure enough, she’s turning to face him in her chair, resting an elbow along the hard plastic back.  </p>
<p>“So, you’re worried about her.” It’s not a question, there’s no room for him to argue with her. Not that he’d have a leg to stand on if he tried, especially talking to Angela. She’s always seen right through him, been able to read his emotions as well as he can. So he nods slowly, a single, controlled motion, and forces himself to keep his face from betraying anything. “Never seen you admit to being worried about a rookie before. And didn’t you have the one get shot?” </p>
<p>“Kennedy, yeah.” He’ll never forget the day, but Angela is right. How he felt then was nothing compared to now. “But it barely winged him, and he was fine. This is different.” </p>
<p>“Is it?” It’s a plain enough question, almost too simple in how it makes Tim think about everything he’s seen Lucy through in the last several months.  </p>
<p>“She’s been through a lot.” He shrugs with one shoulder, hoping that Angela will drop the line of questioning, even though he should know better than to expect that by now. </p>
<p>“Is that the only reason it’s different?”  </p>
<p>“You know it isn’t.” There are days, many of them, when Tim can’t stand how well Angela knows him, how well she reads between the lines of the things she isn’t telling him. But today, as irritating as it is that she won’t just let him sit here and worry about Lucy, he’s glad that he doesn't have to explain everything, that she can clearly see his heart on his sleeve try as he might to keep it in his chest. </p>
<p>“Yeah, I do.” She smiles at him, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “But does Lucy?” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We'll wrap things up on Saturday! Until then, take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lucy gets a diagnosis. And some news.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is it! Saturday got away from me, with my Halloween fic to publish and all, but here's the final chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lucy’s cheeks are still wet when she tips her head back to knock against the wall of her hospital room, but she’s stopped crying.  </p><p>Logically, she’d known that they’d make her move her leg for the exam. She just hasn’t imagined how much it would <em> hurt, </em>especially since the adrenaline from the chase has long since worn off.  At least in the waiting room, she’d been able to lean on Jackson – both literally and for emotional support – and focus on how upset she was with Tim. </p><p>Now, she’s alone, and already gone through every notification on her phone, nothing to do but sit here and wait on the results to come back. She can’t even reach the outdated gossip magazines on the counter.  </p><p>Last time she was here – in this very same room, and she’s not sure how the universe works against her like this – Tim had been there too, talking her through protocols and keeping her out of her own head. And as much as she hates it, his voice in the back of her mind keeps her from getting her phone out now, reading up on what the doctors might say, what her worst-case scenario could be.  </p><p>It's just a sprain. She felt it pull when she slid, but nothing popped and she didn’t feel any tears or cracks. The X-rays are just to confirm what she already knows, and they’ll be here soon to tell her so.  </p><p>She rolls her shoulders, trying to work some of the tension out of them, and twists her head from side to side. Before she can decide what to stretch next, the curtain across the front of her room wiggles and Jackson pokes his head in. </p><p>“Knock, knock.” when she smiles, he steps the rest of the way into the room, arms full of prepackaged snacks and two coffee cups balanced in his hand. “I, uh, I have snacks.” </p><p>“Is there anything left in the vending machine?” Lucy laughs, and some of the weight lifts itself from her shoulders as Tim and Angela follow him into the room. </p><p>Her knee doesn’t hurt so much either, now that she’s got some company.  </p><p>“Hey, it took <em>years </em>for -” Angela shoots him a look that Lucy can’t identify, and his expression changes. “Your latte to brew.” He drops the armful of chips onto the counter next to the sink and passes her a foil bag and one of the cups. “Had to do something so I wasn’t just standing there staring at the wall.” </p><p>There’s something he’s not saying, and Lucy makes a note to weasel it out of him later, if she doesn’t figure it out herself first. </p><p>But then Angela is looking at her, studying her face closely for the first time all day, asking her how she’s feeling. And somehow it doesn't feel like she’s just asking after her leg. </p><p>“Been better, but at least I was above ground this time.” Lucy forces a laugh, trying to remind herself as much as her friends that she’s survived way worse than this, but it doesn’t seem to settle anyone’s mind.  </p><p>The silence that falls uneasily over the group is short, broken when Jackson reaches for his own bag of chips that crinkle loudly as he opens them. Tim glares at him, rolls his eyes at the noise, but Jackson only shrugs. </p><p>“Plain or BBQ, Bradford?”  </p><p>Lucy laughs again, when Tim leans around Jackson to snatch a packet of blue corn chips from the pile, but this time it comes easily to her. He tosses Angela the Doritos and settles back against the edge of the sink. </p><p>“Making fun of me, Boot?” He looks at her, smiling a little bit, even if there is still something in his eyes that she can’t read. Still, it’s lighter and more familiar than anything else that’s happened the last few hours, so Lucy goes along with it. </p><p>“No salsa? Just plain tortilla chips?” She raises her eyebrows and grins at him. </p><p>“You see any salsa in West’s grocery run? Didn’t think so.” </p><p>She’s still working on a response when Grace walks in and greets their little group, turning a computer monitor around so they can all see the images.  </p><p>“The good news is that there isn’t any severe tearing or fracture.” She points at the screen, split between an X-ray and an MRI. “I’d say you’re probably looking at a moderate sprain, from the swelling and the way you say you slid. Grade II, so we’ll set you up with a knee brace and worker’s comp paperwork. You’ve earned a few days off, so rest up and keep it elevated. I’ll call in a day or two, set up a follow-up appointment to give you some stretches. Should have you back on duty in a week or so. Two, tops.”  </p><p><em> Great, as if she needs more medical leave during her rookie year. </em> </p><p>But it’s a good prognosis, as they go. And like she’d said earlier, it’s not even the worst she’s seen this year. So she’ll take her days off, spend too much money online shopping for home décor she doesn’t need, and keep her phone on mute in case Tim tries to drill her with questions while he’s on patrol. </p><p>No one says much while they wait for a nurse to come in and pass Lucy a clipboard with discharge papers on it. She flips through and signs the necessary pages, hangs onto the packet she’ll turn over to Grey and hands the rest back. When he asks Lucy to bend her leg up for the brace, she hisses.  </p><p>Jackson steps forward and offers her his hand, which she squeezes tightly until the pressure of the brace alleviates some of the pain. It still hurts, and she’s fighting back tears yet again, but the relief is almost immediate. </p><p>She lets go of his hand, but he doesn’t step back. </p><p>“Hey, you’re done for the day, right? Once you’re out of here? I can call Grey, get the rest of the afternoon off. You’ll need a ride home, and probably a hand on the stairs. Lopez, is that -” </p><p>But he doesn’t finish the sentence. Lucy looks between her friend and their training officers, trying not to stare at Tim, who’s doing … something with his face. It’s not a look she’s familiar with out of him, but on anyone else, she’d call it ‘protective.’ He’s looked out for her before, sure, but it’s always been with an undercurrent of frustration, and that part is missing now.  </p><p>He’s eyeing her warily, like he’s trying to decide if he’d be justified in handcuffing her to the exam table until her knee is healed. Angela’s gaze is flitting between the three of them, but hardening every time she looks at Jackson, silently daring him to finish the sentence before she interrupts him. </p><p>“If you took Lucy home, that’d leave the division two districts down. Tim’s probably out for the day anyway, doing paperwork on all of this. How about we hit the streets again, and Lucy, I’ll swing by after work, keep you company for a bit before Wes gets done at the courthouse?” </p><p>She’s making sense, even if Lucy isn’t sure why Angela and Tim couldn’t pair up for the afternoon. This way, Jackson won’t lose out on a day of field training, and she can make sure that things are OK with Tim before she’s back in the shop with him every day. </p><p>So Lucy nods, accepts quick hugs from them both before they disappear behind the curtain again.  </p><p>Which leaves her alone with Tim, trying to remember if she still knows how to hold herself up on the crutches by the door. </p><p>It’s not like she can be <em> worse at moving </em>now than she was earlier, when he’d caught her trying to limp back to the shop, though. So there’s really nothing left for her to lose, no remaining dignity for her afternoon to strip away.  </p><p>But neither of them have said anything yet, and Lucy knows they’ll have to break the silence before they walk out of here. So she says the first thing that comes to mind. </p><p>“See? Results are in: just a sprain.” </p><p>Of course, Tim opens his mouth at the same time. </p><p>“I told you, you’re in no condition for duty right now.” </p><p>Lucy clicks her jaw shut and makes herself take a deep breath, before she says anything that could cause her even more trouble. When she feels a little more in control of her mind, she responds, irritation still thick in her voice. </p><p>“You don’t always have to boss me around. Doesn't it get tiring after a while, constantly telling me what to do?” </p><p>“Who says it’s ‘bossing?’” Tim matches her tone, takes a step closer to her and draws his shoulders back. He's trying to intimidate her, she thinks, but that probably-protective look is still on his face, so it’s not as effective as he probably hopes. He doesn’t shout, but the words are clipped and terse. “Ever consider that I hate having to bring you here every other month?”  </p><p><em> Oh, so they’re back on this one? </em> </p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Lucy rolls her eyes, wishing she could shove him or something, just for a little personal satisfaction. “Bubble wrap me, save you the time and trouble.”  </p><p>“Save my ass going numb in those cheap plastic chairs while I consider every possible worst case scenario about whatever you did this time.”  </p><p>There’s more vigor in his voice now, like she’s touched on something personal, not just a boring day at work. For the first time today, Lucy considers that Tim might be upset about more than the uncomfortable waiting room furniture. </p><p>“What?” But she’s not willing to assume anything, doesn’t want to get the wrong idea and make a fool of herself. Again. </p><p>“You heard me.” His tone softens, as he seems to realize that she’s not totally clear about what he’s just said. “Every time you get another ‘just a sprain,’ I have to sit out there waiting on you to come up with something more creative for once, not so cut-and-dry. The sort of thing that’d take you out of commission for more than just a few days. You have <em> no idea </em> the years you’ve taken off my life. So yeah, bubble wrap, if that's what it takes.”  </p><p><em> “What?” </em>Lucy repeats herself, for lack of anything better to say as Tim’s words rattle through her brain. </p><p><em> Years off his life?  Is he </em> worried <em> about her? </em> </p><p>“I’ll try again.” He unfolds his arms, dropping one down to rest on the handle of his Glock and dragging the other through his hair. Finally, after a long moment, he sighs and continues. “You scare me half to death every day, Lucy. Just with how much I care about you. All the rookies I’ve trained, none of them have ever scared me like you do. And I had to teach one of them to look both ways. </p><p>“But somehow, on top of everything else, you manage to get hurt <em> all the time </em>and scare me even more. If it takes wrapping you in bubble wrap to get you to stop scaring me constantly, then that's what I’m voting for.” </p><p>Lucy blinks at him for a few breaths, taking in everything he’s just laid out in front of her. She owes it to them both not to rush into this, to make sure they’re on the same wavelength. </p><p>As if they’ve ever been far off of it, since the day they met. This morning aside, of course. </p><p>“I … scare you?” She looks up at him, really looks at him for the first time since he walked into her hospital room.  </p><p>And all of a sudden, she understands the look in his eyes that she’d been struggling to place.  </p><p>He’s <em> terrified. </em>Because of her. </p><p>“Every damn day.” Tim smiles and takes a step closer. If she wanted to, she could reach out and touch him.  </p><p>But she doesn’t need to, because she knows that he’s right here, and he’s always been there for her when it mattered. No matter how scared he was. </p><p>“In a good way, though, right?” </p><p>“I keep letting you do it again, don’t I?” They both laugh, quiet chuckles that cut through some of the tension that’s surrounded Lucy since they first wheeled her in from the waiting room. </p><p>“Fair enough.”  </p><p>They’re quiet for a moment, neither of them knowing what to say or where to go from here. The more Lucy thinks about it, it’s beginning to make sense why she was so upset when Tim made the bubble wrap comment earlier, why she’s had to focus so carefully on not looking at Tim more or less than she looks at Jackson or Angela.  </p><p>She could stay here all day, just watching Tim look at her. But the hospital bed is uncomfortable, and she hasn’t eaten since breakfast, and she knows that they’ll have to leave eventually. So she takes a breath and meets Tim where he is, heart on her sleeve and everything on the line. </p><p>“Y’know, they’re letting me out of here soon. I could … use a lunch buddy, maybe a ride home? I’ll have great parking for the next few weeks.” She giggles, shakes her head to move the piece of hair that’s still hanging loose from her ponytail.   </p><p>“Lunch <em> and </em>a ride? Kind of a big ask, isn’t it?” But he’s smiling still, maybe even bigger than he was before, tucking his chin down like Lucy knows he does when he’s out of his comfort zone.  </p><p>“Unless … you’re too scared of me?” She’s teasing too, wrinkling her nose and grinning when he looks up at her. </p><p>“Nah, think I can manage. Just … keep yourself away from wet pavement? At least for the next three months?” </p><p>“Three months?” She’s only got a few more weeks of training left, then she’ll be a full-fledged officer. She can’t think of any occasions coming up three months from now, nothing that would set it apart from any other point in the near future. </p><p>“I figure that’ll be enough time that I can start worrying openly. Maybe … about a girlfriend, not a rookie?” </p><p>At that, her breath catches. On top of everything else Tim’s said in the last 10 minutes, did he just ask her to be his girlfriend, before they’ve even gone on a single date? </p><p>“Maybe …"  She draws the word into several syllables. “Let’s see about getting me home today first. Might even need you to help prop my knee up.” </p><p>Tim reaches behind him to grab the crutches and pass them to Lucy. She slides carefully off of the table, wobbles a bit as she tries to find her balance. But she’s not worried, because his hands are right there, hovering inches away from her arms, ready to catch her if she falls.  </p><p><em> As long as he can reach, he’ll always catch her when she falls. </em> </p><p>“Long as you don’t expect me to fluff your pillows.” </p><p>But he does, sitting on her couch with a pink and orange pillow over his lap, her leg resting on top of it and his fingers curled loosely around her ankle. She’s falling asleep against the white noise of afternoon talk shows, and it’s the last thing she registers, how he shifts the pillow gently to perfectly match the bend of her knee in the brace.  </p><p>So maybe she scares him sometimes, and maybe sometimes he makes poorly-timed jokes. But if they can get through the first 11 months of her training, half a dozen hospital visits, and still make it to here? </p><p>Well, then they can make it through anything.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Let me know what you think! I'm starting in on Christmas fics, but hopefully I'll be back a little bit between/around them.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm also firstdegreefangirl on tumblr! Come visit me; we're working on some really cool stuff! Meanwhile, let me know what you think of this!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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